Love of the Enemy
by Jade Hsieh
Summary: Hermione battles her own demons as she comes to terms with the fact that the only man she can ever truly love is her own true enemy: Draco Malfoy.
1. Last Resort

Hermione sat on her bed, crying silent tears that trailed from the corner of her eye to her   
  
chin. She closed her eyes in pain, as she heard the fight going on downstairs. Her mother yelled   
  
something at her father, and there was a deafening slap. Hermione winced in pain, as if she   
  
herself had been slapped. She could hear the cries of her mother downstairs, and burried her   
  
face in the beige pillows on her bed. Her hot tears stinged at her face and Hermione angrily   
  
wiped them away. She put on her favorite CD and put the headphones over her ears. The music   
  
always made her life go away.   
  
"Cut my life into peices, this is my last resort," Hermione nodded her head to the   
  
music, the bass beating through her head, the guitar lifting her spirits high. Hermione's   
  
cell phone vibrated at her side. She paused the music, relieved to hear that the fight was   
  
over. Her father had undoubtedly gone to yet another bar, and her mother was in her room,   
  
tending to her wounds and drinking shots of tequila. It was extremely sad that the fights had   
  
become so routine that Hermione knew exactly what occured after each one.  
  
Hermione checked her cell phone and was, to her chagrin, pleased by the number on her   
  
phone.  
  
"Hey Eric."  
  
"Hey Hermione! Listen, I was wondering if, uh, you might want to, maybe, go to a movie   
  
tonight?"  
  
"Eric, I don't know," Hermione sighed, contemplating her choices. Let's see, stay   
  
home, watch television, listen to her mom's muffled cries, then deal with her little brother.   
  
Hmmm. Tough choice.  
  
"I understand if you don't want to go, I just thought you might want to get out of the   
  
house," Eric stammered.  
  
"Eric, Eric, calm down. I'll go!" Hermione laughed. God, it felt good to laugh. "Come   
  
pick me up at 8, okay?"  
  
"Okay! Great! See ya then!"  
  
Hermione sat laughing to herself. Eric was the latest in a long line of boys who had   
  
fallen for Hermione. Hermione didn't boast when she said she was beautiful. It was the truth.   
  
With soft shoulder length brown hair, and brown eyes much like hot chocolates melting in the   
  
afternoon sun, she was striking. Her high cheekbones accented her face, and her full lips, which  
  
were always glossed and never chapped, lit up her face.  
  
"Okay, what to wear, what to wear?" Hermione scanned her closet. She really didn't give  
  
a damn what she wore. She looked good in anything. She slipped on black hiphuggers and a baggy   
  
grey hoodie. She checked off a list of things she placed in her sweatshirt pockets. Lip gloss,   
  
money, ID, and her cell phone. Hermione put on the diamond ring one of her past flames had   
  
bought her. His name slipped her mind, but that wasn't important. Hermione was working rapidly  
  
but stopped at the silver necklace in her jewelry box. A silver pendant in the shape of a   
  
lightning bolt hung from a silver chain.  
  
Images of her best friend Harry Potter flashed through her mind. For her 15th birthday   
  
he had given her the necklace. "Something to remember me by," he had said. "Oh Harry," Hermione  
  
whispered. Shaking her head of the memories she longed to relive, Hermione Granger walked out   
  
of the room, and never looked back. 


	2. Disclaimer

Sorry i forgot the disclaimer:  
  
I own nothing. I am merely a worthless pawn in the universe that is   
  
J.K. Rowling. This is merely my take on the psyche of the smartest   
  
witch at Hogwarts. 


	3. Wake me up

Disclaimer: I own absolutely nothing! I worship J.K. in all her   
  
splendor.  
  
Wake me up inside, wake me up inside  
  
Call my name and save me from the dark  
  
Bid my blood to run  
  
Before I come undone  
  
Save me from the nothing I've become.  
  
~ Evanessence "Wake me up"  
  
As the golden rays of the sun rose upon the Malfoy Manor,  
  
another golden beauty rose from his bed. Draco Malfoy lay on his back   
  
looking at the ceiling. His handsome face held his trademark smirk as  
  
thought with excitement of what the day would bring.  
  
"Finally," he breathed. "I am finally being initiated."  
  
His father had taught him two things. Never let anyone below   
  
you(which was, in a sense, pratically everyone) make you feel inferior.   
  
Malfoys must always shine. The second was to bow to no one. A Malfoy   
  
bowing was as common as pigs flying over London, and causing havoc   
  
inside Buckingham Palace.  
  
Draco got out of his four-poster bed and browsed his wardrobe.  
  
"Something Slytherin," he murmured. He set his eyes on an emerald green  
  
turtleneck, with black jeans and black boots. He then picked out an  
  
emerald green robe made from the finest of silk. Draco picked a brooch  
  
in the make of a Celtic snake, its tail in its mouth, and clasped it   
  
onto the robe. "There."  
  
As he surveyed his rather handsome reflection, the trademark  
  
smirk drifted off his face. Today was the day. The day that would   
  
change his entire life. The day he would become a servant to the Dark  
  
Lord. What puzzled Draco the most about this whole ordeal was the fact  
  
that being a servant to He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named broke the 2 cardinal  
  
rules taught to him by his father.  
  
"Never let anyone below make you feel inferior." Well, he   
  
wouldn't go as far as to say the Dark Lord was inferior. But strip  
  
away his powers and take him back to when he was a teenager, and you  
  
had someone must frowned upon by the Malfoys. A half-blood. Almost as  
  
bad as a mudblood in Draco's opinion. What self-respecting witch or  
  
wizard would dare associate with and marry a muggle? Even worse, to   
  
have children that will be magical. Yes, definitely right up there with  
  
mudbloods. Like that know-it-all Granger.  
  
"Bow to no one." Draco knew very well that that night he would  
  
have to bow to someone. It was either bow...or die. And Draco was much   
  
too handsome of a man to die.  
  
Draco strutted down his stairs, giving a few house-elves a good  
  
kick on his way to the dining room. He sat in his chair and ate.  
  
"Good morning, Draco." The highly infrequent warm voice   
  
floated across the table. Narcissa Malfoy sat, smiling at her son.  
  
Then she turned back to admiring herself in the mirror behind Draco.  
  
Draco narrowed his eyes and turned back to his breakfast. As much as  
  
Draco loved his mother, he knew she could never totally love him and   
  
care for him. There were only two people Narcissa held close to her   
  
heart. Lucius Malfoy. And herself. And just like Narcissus, Draco  
  
was sure Narcissa would one day drown in her arrogance.  
  
"Draco." A familiar voice wafted into the room and the hairs on the  
  
back of Draco's neck stood up. This was it. He was finally going to be   
  
Death Eater.  
  
******************  
  
The cold, damp dungeons of the Malfoy Manor had a thick stank  
  
to it. Coppery smells mixed with the smell of sweat and rotted flesh.  
  
You could smell the death in the air. Draco could taste it on his   
  
tongue.  
  
He followed Snape down the corridor, past all the cells  
  
that were now empty. But once upon a time, you could hear the screams  
  
and moans throughout the once. To be locked in the Malfoy dungeon was  
  
said to be like being locked in hell. Burning, but not dying. No, death  
  
was too kind. Burning, for all of eternity.  
  
Draco felt his stomach clench, from fear. From anticipation.  
  
From the dungeons. Millions of emotions were running through his head.  
  
But it was okay. Draco could keep his emotions under control. He'd felt  
  
them all before.  
  
Except for love.  
  
Snape walked down the corridor, deathly quiet. He was scarier  
  
silent than when talking. At least, that was Draco's opinion. It might  
  
have been because Snape never spoke ill word to Malfoy. Severus stopped   
  
in front of a brick wall and whispered an incantations.  
  
"Morsmordre."  
  
A green skull floated up into the air. At a certain point, it   
  
stopped and placed itself on the wall. It seemed as though that point  
  
was a lock. And the Dark Mark was the key.  
  
The bricks in the wall opened into a room. This room was worse  
  
than the entire dungeon. Torture devices were place around the room,  
  
and blood stained all of them. The floor was stained, the wall was   
  
stained. Even the roof had a nasty splatter of blood. But what was   
  
sitting in a black throne in the middle of the room was more   
  
terryifing.  
  
A pale hand that stretched out of a black robe beckoned Draco.  
  
A horrible voice filled the air, and the hooded men shrank to their  
  
knees. "So. Young Malfoy has chosen to grace us with his presence. I   
  
must say I am incredibly pleased with your decision. For a moment I  
  
thought you might betray us. But I see that the recent captivity of   
  
your father has given you fresh resolve. Do you become angry when you  
  
think of Potter?"  
  
Draco snarled and felt his blood heat up. That damn Potter! How  
  
dare he take away my father. Sure he hadn't been a very good one. But   
  
he was my father! Strutting around like he owns the fucking school! I   
  
will make him pay! This thoughts ran through his head. What he didn't   
  
realize was that he had said this all out loud.  
  
The cold dungeon was deathly silent, as all looked towards the  
  
Dark Lord for his reaction.   
  
The cold voice chuckled from underneath its hood. "Good. You   
  
are angry. Anger can be a very helpful thing. It can motivate one...or  
  
it can destroy one. Are you sure you want to become a Death Eater? Are  
  
you prepared for the hard work that comes with this honor? Will you do  
  
all in your power to help me, the Dark Lord, rise above that son of a  
  
bitch Potter?!" His voice raised with angry upon every word. Then he   
  
spoke softly in a calm voice. This was somehow scarier than when he was  
  
yelling. "Will you be loyal to me, Draco?"  
  
Draco stared at his feet and searched deep inside himself for  
  
the courage he needed. He looked at the horrible creature on the throne  
  
and stared. He replied his voice shaking in anger at the damn Potter   
  
and that damn Granger and that damn Weasley, angry because they always  
  
outdid him not matter what. They had taken his top grades, they had  
  
taken his father, they had taken the glory of winning at quidditch.  
  
Those fucking bastards had stolen everything from him. But no more.  
  
Draco's voice had firm resolve and dripped with anger, an anger that  
  
frightened everyone in the room except for Voldemort. Draco looked the  
  
Dark Lord in the eye and said:  
  
"Yes." 


	4. All's Fair In Love And War

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, Draco Malfoy[not that I don't want to], Severus Snape, Voldemort[not that I'd want to], Death Eaters and anything else involved with the Harry Potter series. J.K. owns EVERYTHING!  
  
A/N: Please don't spear me for the short chapters and weird format. This is my first Fanfiction. Please don't hurt my poorly developed ego any further with flames. But seeing as I could do with some criticism, be truthful. I will try to update regularly and really do wish to hear your views and opinions.  
  
The rating is R just as a precaution. There will be lots of language, gore, and sexual content. But the latter will not be incredibly detailed.   
  
Chapter 3: All's Fair In Love And War  
  
"Eric, go get me a soda."  
  
"Sure, of course Hermione! Whatever you want!"  
  
Hermione laughed at Eric's eagerness. The movie in itself was crap. Some stupid fantasy about witches and wizards. If the wizarding world only knew how Muggles perceived them. These wizards worked without wands, throwing balls of flame at each other after muttering horribly written lines. Hermione was far more interested in Eric.  
  
She watched him with amusement as he fumbled around giving her her drink and making sure he didn't spill it on her. It was a shame that a nice boy like him didn't have a clue what he was getting into.  
  
"He-hermione?" Eric stammered.  
  
"Yes, Eric?" she answered.  
  
"W-w-w-w-would y-y-you..." His stuttering reminded her strongly of Neville Longbottom. And try as she might, Hermione couldn't help but look forward to the upcoming school year. It would be their 6th year at Howgarts. But it would never be normal again. Well, as normal as the school could be. What with the basilisks and possessed teachers, the cornish pixies and the tournaments, the death toll piling up and Harry Potter. Oh, Harry.  
  
"Hermione? Are you okay?" Eric's voice dragged her away from her thoughts and slammed her right back on earth.  
  
"Yeah, I'm fine. Do you mind if we go home?"  
  
"Sure Mione."  
  
Mione? That's what Ron and Harry call me. Well, what Harry used to call me. When he still talked to us. No one could say that Harry Potter had been through things most wizards never go through in their lives and call it an overstatement. More like an understatement. Harry had never been the same after the rescue mission to the Department of Mysteries. After witnessing the death of Sirius and battling Voldemort again. Right after Dumblemore had subdued Voldemort, Harry was whisked away and came back to Gryffindor with a sad forlonged face, the face of someone who learned something they hadn't wanted to learn. Hermione didn't want to pressure him into telling them what was wrong. He had already bitten their heads about 30 times before then. But no matter how patient she was, Harry wouldn't tell. When he wasn't at the end of the year feast, they became uneasy. But he wouldn't tell them where he had gone. It was as if he wanted to be completely shut off from the world.  
  
Then on the train home, he pulled Hermione into an empty compartment. He spoke to her with his voice full of urgency.  
  
"Hermione, Hermione. You know as well as I do that I am the one Voldemort's after. Listen, Mione, it's going to be me that kills him. It's either I kill him or he kills me. Mione you are one of my best friends. I don't want him coming after you." Voices went past the the compartment and Harry spoke hurriedly. " Mione, look at me. I have to do what Dumbledore did with me. He distanced himself from me to protect me. I can't be as close to you and Ron without endangering your lives. If I lost you two I don't know what I'd do."  
  
He took a breath as his emerald green eyes started to shine. Hermione's brown ones were filling up as well. "Harry," she whispered, "What are you saying? We are not going to let you go through this alone."  
  
"It's the only way Mione. I will tell Ron the same later. Though he might pummel me when I say so. But Mione, I brought you a present."  
  
He handed her a black velvet box and placed it in her palm.   
  
"Open it."  
  
Inside was a magnificent silver pendant. It was shaped exactly like Harry's scar, and was on a silver chain.  
  
"Oh Harry."  
  
Harry leaned in and kissed her cheek. Not a romantic kiss. A brotherly kiss. He whispered into her ear:  
  
"If something happens, anything...Something to remember me by.  
  
* * *  
  
As Eric's car pulled into her driveway, Hermione screamed.  
  
"Mione, what is that?!"  
  
A green skull with a serpent flowing out of its mouth floated above her house. The Dark Mark was floating over her house.   
  
Hermione ran inside, hoping against hope. No, no, no! Dad will be home, asleep on the couch and Mother will be in her bedroom sleeping and David.... oh no David please not David.  
  
She ran into the living room-and stopped. And stared. At the 2 bodies lying on the floor.  
  
She sank to her knees. And felt the tears flow down her face. Eric came in and sat beside her, then jumped up to call the police.  
  
Before he could, Hermione took out her wand from her side pocket, used especially for her wand and shouted, "Obliviate!" Eric stopped in his tracks.   
  
"You never saw any dead bodies, we went on a wonderful date, and you got to kiss me goodnight. Understood?" Eric nodded dully, and went home.  
  
Hermione raced to the phone and called the Dursleys.   
  
"HELLO?" a gruff voice answered.  
  
"Hello, this Hermione Granger may I please speak to Harry?" she replied in her sweetest voice, trying to keep the crying out of her voice. Why me? she thought. Duh...because you're best friends with Harry. But it is NOT his fault!  
  
"He is not here! He went with those crazy people. Wouldn't tell me where. Not that I'd want to know..."  
  
Hermione hung up the phone, and cried. She crawled up into a ball on the floor and cried and cried.  
  
"Well, well, well. For once know-it-all Granger didn't know something would happen." A cold voice came out of the shadows.  
  
Hermione jumped up and pointed her wand.  
  
"WHO ARE YOU? SHOW YOURSELF!" she yelled.  
  
"No. I don't think I will just now. Expelliarmus!" the voice cried suddenly. Hermione flew back into the wall and her wand flew into the hands of- Draco Malfoy?  
  
"Ah. That's a tad better. Don't you think Granger?" His smirk was as poisonous as ever, and his ice blue eyes were narrowed. She should have known it was him. Who else called her a know it all? Besides Ron.  
  
"What the hell are you doing here? If you did this to my parents I'll kill you with my bare hands." she replied, her voice dripping with anger.  
  
"Unfortunately my dear, I didn't have that happy privelege. I don't know why they spared your brother though. I would have killed him as well. But I suppose its so he lives with the knowledge that his parents are dead. Survivors live a much more lasting impression than the dead. Just look at Saint Potter." Draco spat the name out.  
  
"Wizards will be here soon and you will go to prison just like your scum father!" Hermione shouted, her back killing her.  
  
Draco's face contorted with fury. He grabbed her by the hair and slammed her against the wall, making her gasp in pain. He shouted, "DON'T YOU DARE TALK ABOUT MY FATHER THAT WAY! MUDBLOOD SCUM LIKE YOU SHOULDN'T EVEN BE LOOKING AT HIM!"   
  
Hermione spat in his face. He glared at her and slapped her. "You think you can fuck with me?" he whispered. "Trust me, I will make you and your little friends pay for everything you have done. You don't know what the fuck I've been through. You're father didn't put the Cruciatus Curse on you when you were 4 years old! But judging by these bruises, he hurt you without magic." His hands trailed the bruise on her arm to the one on her chest, and his hand lingered longer than necessary. He eyed her with an expression that made Hermione feel as though her were raping her with his eyes. "You didn't have to suffer at the hands of the Dark Lord and endure the pain of the Dark Mark being put onto your skin." He released her and she slumped down the wall.  
  
He crouched down and lifted her chin. His voice was now eerily calm. "Don't try and tell people that I was here. Or I might come back for your brother. By the way he's stunned. Lying in his room. You know Hermione," saying her name in a way that made her never want to hear it again, "You would be pretty bloody gorgeous...if you weren't a filthy Mudblood bitch." He kissed her softly on the lips, then slapped her across her face again. She merely whimpered this time, determined not to give him the satisfaction of making her cry out loud again. With one last smirk, he Disapparated. Hermione dully noted that he was underage, before falling into a deep sleep, blood trickling from the corner of her mouth.  
  
Only one thought swam to her mind as she struggled to stay awake.  
  
A certain voice that whispered to her, "Something to remember me by."  
  
And then all was black. 


	5. Back at Hogwarts

Disclaimer: I own nothing  
  
A/N: Thanks for those who reviewed. The chapters will start to get longer and will take more time to post, just as a note. By the way, the song for chapter 2 was not titled Wake me up. It is Bring me to Life. Sorry about that. Also, this story WILL contain spoilers for:  
  
Harry Potter and the Sorceror's[Philospher's for UK] Stone  
  
Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets  
  
Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban  
  
Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire  
  
Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix  
  
OMG! I can't believe I messed up so incredibly! PLEASE forgive me for suddenly changing Hermione's brother to Jeremy. I have changed it back to David here. I am so sorry, it's just, my brother's name is Jeremy and I must have gotten very confused. SORRY! :(  
  
Chapter 4: Back at Hogwarts  
  
"Hermione. Hermione wake up!"  
  
A voice was calling out to her. But it wasn't the same voice she kept hearing in her head. This voice didn't belong to the man she loved. It belonged to...  
  
"Ron?" Hermione sat up in bed, and a wave of nausea passed over her. She kept her head down until it passed. Then she looked up. She wasn't in St. Mungo's as she thought she would end up in. She was back at Grummauld Place. And standing over her was one of her best friends in the world.  
  
"Oh, Hermione! You have no idea how much everyone has been worried about me. Especially me." As he said this last bit, his face flushed as red as his hair. If it was possible, he had grown even taller.  
  
God, he must qualify as a Giant now, she thought. She looked around and found many people staring at her. Ginny was there, along with Mrs. Weasley, Tonks, Lupin, Charlie, and... Snape?! What's he doing here? Almost as if he had read her mind, he said, "I happened to be here for a meeting when we realized you were awakening."   
  
Hermione looked around the room, and sadness fell upon her. If Sirius were alive he'd be there too. Smiling at her with his mischevious grin. Welcoming her with open arms. Laughing his bark like laugh. She blinked tears out of her eyes. Not only was Sirius dead. Her parents were as well. So this is what Harry must feel all the time. Knowing he would never see his parents in person again. But at least she had memories. Most of them were bad. But there were good memories. Harry had nothing but the voices that had, at one point, flooded his brain whenever dementors approached. And that was the sounds of them dying. Hermione was lucky that she had memories. Hermione felt so sorry for everyone who had lost someone. She felt sorry for Harry. For herself. For her brother.  
  
Hermione sat up with a gasp. The people who had been surveying her closely jumped.  
  
"What is it Mione?" Ron, who had been getting her a glass of water, ran up to her side. His eyes were wide open, and he took his hand. She shook it off and got up. She was frantic, searching and searching for something. No one knew what though. Except for GInny. Ginny ran up to her best friend and put her hands on her shoulders. She looked into Hermione's eyes and said softly, "Hermione. David is upstairs. We wouldn't let anything happen to him."  
  
Hermione nodded, glad that she had such a great best friend who knew what was going through her mind. She ran upstairs, opening all the doors, until she opened one and David sat on the bed. He looked at her, and smiled, then looked behind the door and frowned. Hermione was puzzled, until a voice floated from behind the door.  
  
"Uh, Hermione? You mind letting me out from behind here?"  
  
Hermione's heart gave an enormous flutter. It couldn't be. It just couldn't. She stepped in and closed the door. Standing there was none other than Harry James Potter. She paused for one millisecond before flinging herself unto him, and hugging him until he couldn't breath. When he started to struggle she let go.  
  
He grinned his adorable grin and said, "Nice to see you too, Mione." Harry looked back at David, and the grin fell off his face. "Uh, I'll be downstairs," and ran out.  
  
Hermione turned around, and found David glaring at her from on the bed. She was startled by the hate and anger visible in his eyes. He walked over and closed the door, and said, "I hate him."  
  
"Hate who?"  
  
"Harry Bloody Potter that's who!"  
  
Hermione stood with her mouth opening and closing like a fish. When she replied, her remarks were incoherent.  
  
"B-but w-w-w-why? H-h-h-how c-c-c-c-c-"  
  
"Stop it Hermione! You know damn well he's the reason Mum and Dad are dead. Unless you want to blame yourself." David flung himself onto the bed and stared at her. Hermione snapped out of her stupor.  
  
"Don't use that language! You are only 11 years old! And this was not Harry's fault. It was Voldemort's! So don't you dare get mad at him."  
  
David stared at her and said, "Okay I see where you are coming from. But think about it. If Harry hadn't been best friends with you, or the other way around, Mum and Dad would still be alive! But I must admit Voldemort is the main reason. Hermione, if Harry doesn't get to that son of a bitch first, I'll kill him when I go to that school of yours and learn all I need to learn."  
  
Hermione had almost forgotten. David had gotten his letter when Hermione's had come. David would be joining them at Hogwarts.  
  
"But I am NOT ready to forgive Harry entirely yet. Though he was a good fellow coming up here to apologize. He didn't have to." David was talking but Hermione was thinking. It would be her 6th year at Howgarts. What would it bring? What would happen that could possibly top all that's happened all ready? Still wondering, she walked downstairs with her brother.  
  
* * *  
  
In what seemed like no time at all, the Golden Trio and their companions were on their way to Hogwarts. Ron and Hermione sat with the prefects on the train for a while and then walked to the compartment where Ginny, Neville, Luna, Harry, and David sat. David and Ginny were conversing by the door, and Neville and Luna sat together reading the Quibbler. Harry sat by the window, watching the scenery fly by. Hermione sat next to him, but, sensing that he didn't want to speak, she remained silent.  
  
When they arrived, Hogwarts looked so amazing. It was a splendid relief for Hermione. Until she realized a pair of cold eyes were staring at her. She looked into them and knew whose they were. And she could hear the voice that had been haunting her.   
  
"You know, you'd be pretty bloody gorgeous. If you weren't...."  
  
"Hermione! C'mon!" Harry was pulling her arm and she shook her head of those thoughts. It was impossible to imagine. Her, Hermione Granger, falling for Draco Malfoy? The same bastard who had beaten her and put her into a 5 day coma? Impossible. The voice that haunted her was Harry's. She loved Harry. Even if he didn't love her. She smiled at Harry and got into the carriage with him and Ron.  
  
* * *  
  
Draco stared at the carriage she had gotten into. Damn that girl. Damn her for all the trouble she had ever caused. Damn her for being beautiful. Draco admitted freely that she was beautiful. She was. It was no wonder Ron had loved her since first year. And it was equally true that she was smart. And brave. But she wasn't worth shit in Draco's eyes. He turned and smirked at her brother David. He wondered if he would recognize him. Sure, Draco had had a mask on. But so did the rest of the Death Eaters, and he knew who most of them had been.  
  
David surveyed Draco, and then walked up to him. Ignoring the silence that fell around the two, he whispered to Draco, "I know it was you. I know you were one of them."  
  
Draco was shaken for a bit. Then he retorted, "Prove it." David's face contorted with fury, and then his face was calm. A smile spread across it and slowly transformed into a Malfoy smirk. David then narrowed his eyes and walked past, purposely bumping into Draco. As he did, David said, "Better watch your back."  
  
Draco stood still for a moment, then called out, "I wonder if he'll be as much of a foul Mudblood as his slut sister.  
  
David stopped walking towards the boats, turned, and ran full force towards Draco. Draco's breath left him as he felt David's fist in his stomach. The two rolled on the ground. David was on top of Draco, punching his face over and over. Draco got a right hook to the jaw and threw David onto the ground. Just as Draco raised his hand again, two huge hands pulled them apart.  
  
"Alrigh' now! There ain't gon' be none o' that, ya hear?" Rubeus pulled them apart and dragged David off to the boats. "You ought ter know better than 'at, David." David shrugged Hagrid off and replied heatedly, "I know who he is Hagrid! He's ONE OF THEM!"   
  
Hagrid looked him squarely in the eye. "Draco is just as bad as 'is father. But we don't know if he's one of 'em yet, so keep yer knickers outta a bunch."  
  
David said, "I know it was him! The idiot took his mask off just as they Stunned me. And yes, I know what happened to me," he said to Hagrid's surprised look. "Hermione's been teaching me ever since I showed magical talent. Told me everything I needed to know. Just cause she kept it a secret from you that I was going to Hogwarts doesn't mean she didn't know. Look, it was him! I can remember every detail of his face! He had these silver eyes that cut right through you, and he was pale, with a pointed face. And he had platinum blonde hair that was almost white! Listen Hagrid, I know it was- Hagrid? What's wrong?"  
  
Hagrid's mouth had dropped open in surprise. He started to back away, unsure of what to say or do. For some strange inexplicable reason, Draco Malfoy was standing in front of him, in the same place where David had stood. But it couldn't be Draco. Hagrid could still see him from where he stood. The real Draco was staring at them, and was pushed by Pansy to get into a carriage.  
  
Hagrid looked back in forth between the two and was startled when the fake Draco touched his arm.  
  
"Hagrid," he said in David's voice, "What's wrong?"  
  
"Wha' the hell do ya mean, wha's wrong? Ya look like bloody Draco! I mean, how did ye get a hold o' sum Polyjuice Potion? An' when did ya take a drink o' it! I was watchin' ya the whole time!!!"  
  
"Hagrid, what are you going on about? How can I look like Draco? And what is Polyjuice Potion? Honestly Hagrid, you should lie down."  
  
Hagrid reached inside his pockets and pulled out a small mirror and handed it to Draco. Draco took it and a loud gasp escaped from Draco. He screwed his face up tight and slowly transformed back into David. Hagrid was still staring waiting for an explanation. The first years were staring too. They had all gathered to be taken to the castle, but did not seem to have heard anything of their conversation. They were all staring at David.   
  
"All righ' then. Let's get a move on. Hurry up, we ain't gots all day." Hagrid herded them all into boats. David sat in a boat with 2 girls and another boy. They were all looking at him like he was a freak. David sat looking at the water and at Hogwarts. Man, he thought, I didn't realize I was changing. But you would think in the magical world they'd be used to something like this. There must be loads of people who can change their appearance in the magical world. Right? Right, he answered himself. I'm no different from anyone else here. But how very wrong David turned out to be.  
  
* * *  
  
Professor McGonagall sat the Sorting Hat atop the stool and stood back. The first years looked apphrensive about it. The whole school was staring at the new blood and each child wondered what they were getting into. Suddenly, the Sorting Hat sprang to life, and the first years listened as though their lives depended on it.  
  
A thousand years or more ago,  
  
  
  
This hat first came to rest,  
  
  
  
Upon the heads of all new children,  
  
  
  
And see which house fit them best.  
  
  
  
But just last year I took it upon myself,  
  
  
  
To warn you of nearing danger.  
  
  
  
We must take after dear Ron Weasley,  
  
  
  
And intelligent Ms. Granger.  
  
  
  
And better yet, brave Potter,  
  
  
  
Who's proved himself every year,  
  
  
  
Like these three we must band together,  
  
  
  
To protect the school we hold so dear.   
  
  
  
So when I sort you into these houses,  
  
  
  
Think not of which you hate,  
  
  
  
Think dearly of our prized school,  
  
  
  
And honor those of late.  
  
  
  
Let us honor Cedric,  
  
  
  
Who died brave in battle.  
  
  
  
If he were here and he knew of the war,  
  
  
  
It'd be a task he'd most willingly tackle.  
  
  
  
The second war is here,  
  
  
  
Please remember those like Sirius Black,  
  
  
  
For this year is the year:  
  
  
  
There is no turning back.  
  
  
  
  
  
The Hall broke into applause, and for a second it seemed as though the Slytherins were clapping and smiling at other houses as well. But one look from Draco, Slytherin Prince, and they fell silent, glaring at the people they were told to hate.  
  
David, standing there, did not know that, from a certain angle, he was the spitting image of a very young Tom Riddle. But Albus Dumbledore noticed. Jeremy looked around for his sister, but she was talking to Ron and Harry. No doubt talking about why their names had been mentioned in the Sorting Hat's song. Harry had a most unhappy look on his face, and Jeremy noticed that many people were vying for Harry's attention, convinced once more that he was not the lunatic they had all accused him of, but a hero. Harry was having none of it however. He might get David's respect yet.   
  
"Granger, David!"  
  
David snapped to attention as his name was called, and proceeded up to the Sorting Hat. As it was placed atop his head, he noticed several people looking between him and his sister. David felt his blood boil. He did not want to be known as his sister's brother. He wanted to make a name for himself. He didn't need his sister to command respect. And respect was something David valued most.  
  
"Ahh, and already I can see into your mind."  
  
David was startled to hear the Hat speak.  
  
"Now, now, no need to be alarmed. I am here to see which House would best suit you David. But indeed, where should I put you. You are brave, yes, with plenty of courage. Seeing injustice angers you, does it not? And you are clever, just as clever as your sister, if not more so. Why, that gives us 3 options, of Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, or Gryffindor. But wait. I see ambition and a thirst to prove yourself dominate you at times. You want people's respect very much, don't you David? I have a question for you then. David, how far would you go to command people's respect?"  
  
David sat there for about 10 seconds, and then replied, "To the ends of the earth."  
  
The Sorting Hat sighed. "You have so many qualities that resemble that of a student that was here long ago. He was the most brilliant student that ever came to Hogwarts. And he was tired of being walked over too. He was tired of being looked down upon. And he went on to do many great things. Horrible things, yes. But great. So here I am faced with a dilemma. Gryffindor or Slytherin. Under normal circumstances I'd place you in the house you truly belong to. But I don't think that that house would tolerate a muggle-born in their midst. But that is not the real reason for which I hesitate to place you there. No doubt you could overcome those people. You are stronger than them. But I hesitate, because I fear for your future. You know the student I just told you about? His name was Tom Riddle. Tom Marvolo Riddle. Now, you memorize that name, and tonight, I want you to decipher it."  
  
"Decipher it?" David asked.  
  
"Yes. You can find out what he turned into by looking at his name. David, I do not want to put you into Slytherin... because I am afraid that you will turn into Tom. That with the Dark influences coming from that house, you will be just like Tom. You are basically half and half. A coin toss if you will. You could be Gryffindor. Or Slytherin. You'd be happy in either one. I am asking you, David, to choose."  
  
David sat there. "You are afraid I will turn into Lord Voldemort?"  
  
The Hat chuckled. "Yes, you are very clever. Did your sister tell you about Tom?  
  
"Why d'you think I need my sister to tell me everything? I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself. And besides, its all that damn Potter's fault my parents died." Tears began to well up in David's eyes, burning there, but he did not wipe them away. He whispered, "I never got the chance to tell them I loved them."  
  
"David, it was nobodt's fault but Lord Voldemort's that your parents died. You could become such a great wizard. You can do things that would rid the world of injustice. Harry never wanted his parents dead. That's what he's famous for. Would you like to famous for your parents' deaths?"  
  
"No. No I wouldn't. Maybe I could learn more about the Dark Arts than Voldemort, and then I could destroy him. Yes, that's what I can do. I'll become a Slytherin and use Voldemort's own Dark Arts against him."  
  
"That never works out David," the Hat said quietly. "Many wizards have done so, only to be killed by others. Choose David. And choose wisely. This could change your entire life."  
  
David sat there, tears rolling down his cheeks, as he thought of his parents. His heart filled with anger. Then he thought of his sister. The one thing he had left in the world. And the anger was replaced with love as he thought of what his sister would say if he was in Slytherin. And he made his decision.  
  
"Well then," the Hat sighed, "Better be... GRYFFINDOR!"  
  
The Hall filled with cheering but the Hat did not leave David's head. It whispered in his ear, "But always remember: You are a true Slytherin." And as these words were spoken, a necklace was placed around Jeremy's neck, and a dagger found its way to his robe's sleeve. For some strange reason, the Sorting Hat had given David gifts.  
  
David walked over to Gryffindor table and sat near his sister. It would be far to dangerous to look at them now. He slid the dagger to his pocket, and was forced to wait until that night to examine it and the necklace hidden under his robe.  
  
* * *  
  
The feast was delicious, and the speech by Dumbledore was encouraging and heart-warming. But David heard none of it. He couldn't wait to get to Gryffindor tower. But as he was exiting, after recieving a huge hug from his sister, he was asked to meet Professor McGonogall in her office. When he arrived, Professor McGonogall was sitting in her chair, and Headmaster Dumbledore was standing next to her.  
  
"Please," Dumbledore said, "Sit."  
  
David sat, nervously fingering the necklace on his neck. Dumbledore watched him curiously, and David stopped.  
  
"It has come to our attention that you are a Metamorphmagus." McGonogall said.  
  
David said with a raised eyebrow, "Bless you."  
  
McGonogall raised an eyebrow as well, while Dumbledore chuckled. He said, "A Metamorphmagus."  
  
David stared for a moment and replied, "I'm sorry, I'm not sure I'm following you. What is a Meta-MightyMorphin-Mutant-whatever it was?"  
  
Dumbledore said in his calming voice, "A Metamorphmagus is someone who can change their appearance at their will. This is incredibly rare, as they are born, not made. They are as rare as Parselmouths. We've only had 3 of those in the whole history of Hogwarts."  
  
"Oh yeah, Voldemort, Harry, and Slytherin himself?" At their nods David continued, "Well what if I were to tell you that I was one too?" Professor McGonogall's reaction was very elaborate. She gasped and spilled her tea on the desk. Dumbledore smiled and cleaned it up. "Well," Dumbledore said, "We'd think it highly phenomonal...if it were true." At David's smirk, he continued. "Well then David, it'd be best if you went to bed. The password, I believe, is Angelo Cadere. Wait a moment David. I think I will walk with you."[A/N: You didn't really think I'd make him a Parselmouth as well as a Metamorphmagus? That would be a bit much. ;) ]  
  
* * *  
  
On the way to Gryffindor Tower, Dumbledore and David talked of many things, ranging from Quidditch, which David found highly interesting, to school subjects. For David, it was a confusing feeling. It was as if he had found an old friend he had forgotten about. As Dumbledore bid him goodnight, David remembered the necklace and dagger. He raced up to his dormitory and sat on his bed, which was illuminated by the moonlight.  
  
The chain was of fine silver, and felt so delicate in David's hands. The pendant itself was also silver. It was of a snake and a dragon, encoiled together in bonds of friendship. The eyes of both were emeralds, and the scales were peppered with emerald chips. To David's surprise, he also found a bracelet and a ring in his pocket. "What the hell?" David thought. "Does the Sorting Hat always give out tons of jewelry? It's like a fucking gift shop." The bracelet was a snake in a Celtic fashion, eating its own tail. The ring was alike, except of an Oriental dragon eating its tail. The dagger shined ominously in the moonlight. It's handle had solid emeralds on it, and the blade was incredibly sharp. Indeed, David cut his finger on it. But blood never bothered him. What captivated his attention was the engraving on the dagger. Salazar Slytherin.  
  
David looked at all the articles of jewelry and discovered the same name engraved on them all. Salazar Slytherin. So why did I get all this, David wondered. Then he thought of the Sorting Hat's words. "You are a true Slytherin." David looked at it all before putting the jewelry on. The ring fit his right ring finger perfectly, and the necklace settled nicely on his chest. He looked at the dagger and carefully wrapped it in an emerald green cloth. Then he gently but it in his boot. He would make a compartment for it in the boot tomorrow, so that he would be ready when the time came to use it.  
  
But why, David wondered, did David know he would use it one day? Thinking about everything he had found out about himself that day, David was puzzled. How could he be David, and at the same time, not know who he was at all? And on this question David slept, unawares that his every move would be watched from this day forward.  
  
A/N: Didja like it? I spent hours on it just for you all. What surprises me is that this chapter is longer than the last two chapters combined! OMG its like 1:20. Im gonna upload it then head off to bed. And sorry about all the jewelry. I got really caught up in the idea. ;) Don't worry they will all serve a different magical purpose. ARGH! Fanfiction.net is not working today! I can't upload! After hours of work! Screw this I'm going to sleep. O wait, if someone can correctly say the meaning of Angelo Cadere, and if they are the first to put this into a REVIEW, then they will get a sneak peek of the next chapter. I'll probably do this with every other chapter, or when I feel the chapter needs a bit of reviewing before I upload it. 


	6. Dreams

Disclaimer: *Puts Draco in a full body bind. Looks around. Runs out the door dragging him behind her* Me: HE'S MINE ALL MINE!!!! yea yea we know the drill blah blah   
  
A/N: Dot: Yea I love "I Am Lord Voldemort" it is such as cool story!  
  
Serpent du Feu: Yea, I am not that fond of OC's either. I m sick of transfer students popping up at Hogwarts in like 7th year and making all the boys fall madly in love with her *rolls eyes* but I promise David will play a major role in how Draco and hormone finally get together.  
  
THANX TO THOSE WHO REVIEWED!!!! I APPRECIATED IT!!!!!!  
  
Chapter 5: Dreams  
  
His lips gently touched hers in a sweet romantic kiss. Hermione stared into his amazing green eyes and ran her hands through his jet-black hair.  
  
"Mione I love you. I always have."   
  
She sighed contentedly and closed her eyes. As she leaned in for another kiss, Harry began to change. His lean body changed to a more muscular frame under her hands. The lips pressed against hers became slightly thinner, though still incredibly soft. As she opened her eyes, a pair of cold grey ones greeted her brown ones, instead of the magnificent green eyes that had been there before. But these grey eyes were different. If you stared long enough, you could see the warmth trapped behind the cold. As she lifted her eyes to the face, she gasped and jumped back. Draco Malfoy stood in front of her, his chest devoid of a shirt, his muscular physique showing. His golden hair was slicked back, but a few loose strands fell around his face. He was breathtaking.  
  
Draco stood there, staring at Hermione with a hurt look on his face.   
  
"Mione?" He asked tentatively.  
  
She took a deep breath and moved into his arms. Their bodies fit perfectly into each other's, and the two became one. She stared into his gorgeous eyes, drowning in them. As he leaned in to kiss her, he whispered, "I love you." When they broke for air, she whispered back, "I love you too...Draco Malfoy."  
  
And then she woke up.  
  
****************************************  
  
Pain engulfed him. It coursed through his veins and pounded inside his head. It was like a horrible dark cloud that was choking him, filling his lungs with pain every time he breathed. Knives were being driven into his body, again and again, but there was no blood anywhere. Just agony. Every inch, every molecule, every atom of Draco was filled with pain and anguish. But he did not cry out. He was strong.  
  
As the curse was lifted, Draco felt relief wash over him. Glorious relief. It was like a taste of ice water upon the parched throat of a man deserted on an island for years. Draco breathed in the sweet air, letting it cool his enflamed lungs.  
  
"You disappoint me Draco."   
  
A cold high voice floated from its throne.  
  
"You let that filthy Granger boy see your face. And you let that Mudblood bitch see you as well! Do you think the beating you gave her will make her forget? I hope that this meeting shall teach you a lesson. Remember to listen and obey your lord! Don't fool yourself about God," he sneered as Draco clutched the figure of Christ on the chain around his neck. His mother had forced it upon him long ago and Draco had always sneered at it. But now, in the moment of pain and fear, he needed to take solace in something, anything.  
  
As the Dark Lord's long pale fingers reached out towards Draco, he closed his eyes and braced himself for what was to come. If he had even a shred of luck, it'd be death that would swallow his pain and his soul. But nothing came except for a swift SNAP! The chain around Draco's neck broke and as he opened his eyes, he saw the Dark Lord sneering at him. Draco quickly lowered his eyes and watched the necklace fall to the floor. Voldemort leaned in until Draco could feel his breath upon his face. He didn't dare look up.   
  
"Remember Draco. Always remember...I am your lord!"  
  
And Draco's body filled with pain yet again. He clenched his jaw and tried to bear it but as time wore on, he felt his resolve slipping away. Draco could handle the Cruciatus Curse for 10 minutes, 15 tops. But he could not handle it for 30. As Draco opened his mouth, a blood-curdling yell rang through the air. It was the scream of agony, of torture, of despair. It was the scream of someone who had nothing to live for but hate. It was the scream of a little boy, who had only wanted to make friends, but had been forced to despise everything below him. It was the scream of Draco Malfoy.  
  
**************************************  
  
The tears were streaming down her face, little rivulets of salty water making their way across a new plane. But the skin covered with these tears had felt this sensation before. Though the previous tears had long since dried up, she could still remember a dozen times before then when she had cried like this. Wounds may heal, but the scars remain forever. Hermione had many scars. Physically and emotionally, she was covered with them.  
  
Why was she so alone? She loved Harry, always had, and always would. There were the beginnings of romance between her and Ron but whenever Ron tried to approach her, things felt too awkward. Ron had the romantic capability of an undead pirate, who could not eat, drink or feel. [A/N: SORRY! I just had to do it. I absolutely adore Pirates of the Caribbean. I got a thing for pirates especially Jack Sparrow. O sorry I'll let you get back to the story....or exit out to go to a story worth your time.] He could never express himself through words. You had to examine his actions to determine his true feelings. And you needed to know exactly what to look for. Ron's family didn't even understand. They were all too busy; each wrapped up in the dramas of their own lives. The only ones who had an inkling to Ron's true feelings were Ginny, Harry, and Hermione. They had all agreed that Ron was expressing deep hostility towards Viktor, not because he was Harry's rival, as was common belief, but because he was jealous. He was jealous that someone who had just met Hermione could express his feelings for her almost immediately, whereas Ron, who had been her best friend for years, could not.  
  
Hermione began to question a new relationship with Ron even back then. She decided to take a plunge after the incident involving Percy's letter in 5th year. They had decided to keep it a secret for the time being. The only reason Hermione had suggested this was because they did not want Harry to feel abandoned, as he was already pushing them away. Slowly, but surely. Hermione wanted Harry to be happy no matter what. If that meant pretending she didn't love him and giving him his space, so be it. She would do anything for Harry and Ron.  
  
Her relationship with Ron was a complete fiasco. Ron could never talk to her seriously, and when she tried to engage him in an intellectual conversation, his attention would be immediately directed to Quidditch or the next meal. He had actually fallen asleep once when she was telling him a shortened (though still incredibly long) history on house-elf enslavement. And Ron was constantly leaning in towards her, as if to kiss her, then open his eyes, stay frozen for a moment, and then leap backwards. Hermione finally discussed the matter with Ron while Harry was at Occlumency.  
  
"Ron, our relationship isn't going in the direction I'd hoped it would," she began tentatively.  
  
"Yea, I know," he sighed.  
  
Hermione took a deep breath and was about to say, "I don't think we are meant for each other," when Ron beat her to it.  
  
"We should break up."  
  
"Wh-what?" Hermione was taken aback. She had thought Ron would be fighting for them. She was ecstatic. Until she realized that Ron had been thinking about dumping her. Well. That certainly put a damper on her spirits. In the meantime, Ron had taken Hermione's surprise as a sign of her wanting to stay in the relationship.  
  
"Mione, I'm sorry! Please don't be upset with me, it is just not working!" Ron looked horrified at the thought that he might make Hermione cry. Hermione, not wanting to lead him on, replied, "No Ron I agree."  
  
"Oh great," Ron sighed with relief. "Well, I'm off to bed."  
  
Ron leaned in, kissed her on the cheek, and headed to his dormitory. Oh great, she thought, he could kiss me when we are not together. Hermione grinned and shook her head.  
  
But now, even though she had her 2 best guy friends, a best girl friend, and her brother at the same school with her, Hermione had never felt so alone. Did all boys just see her as a friend? Would she be doomed to be the girl in a group of guys for the rest of her life? Here, people surrounded her, yet she had never felt so alone. She needed someone to love, to hold, and to share her hopes and dreams with. She needed someone who would make her feel complete. For so long, she had felt that Harry was her true love. But the dream she'd just had had changed her idea. Hermione didn't believe in her dreams like Trelawney. Buttered toast in her dream meant she was craving buttered toast. A black dog in her dream meant Sirius, and was not an omen of death. But she did believe that her brain was sending messages to her subconscious and trying to raise her awareness to an issue. If this dream meant that her true love was not Harry, whom she had believed it was for so long, but was indeed Malfoy, Hermione was screwed.  
  
Fresh tears fell on her pillow. Why did the one person she love have to be her only enemy? Hermione thought, Do I really care for Malfoy? And Hermione felt herself thinking about the times in Potions when Draco would answer a question, and his face would portray deep concentration. And when he was correct, which he always was, the way his face lit up with self-satisfaction, only to be changed into deep concentration again. And the way he bit his lip as he read a book in the library, drinking in every bit of information. And the way ran his hand over his hair, as if he thought for a second that a single strand would be out of place.  
  
Hermione had to admit, if Draco wasn't such a git, she would have had a major crush on him. But he is a git, she reminded herself. He doesn't care about you and he most certainly doesn't love you. He is NOT the love of your life. Be sensible, Granger! Don't become another member of the Draco Malfoy fan club. Settle down with a sensible boy, who really does care for you. Hermione got out of her bed and sat her desk. She took out a piece of parchment and proceeded to write to Viktor.  
  
So, for the first time in her life, Hermione did not follow her dreams.  
  
*******************************************  
  
Draco sat up with a gasp, his face glistening with sweat. He looked around wildly and sighed when he saw he was in his bed. He had gone straight to the castle after he had Apparated back to the alley in Hogsmeade. He had shivered against the cold October wind as he remembered the Dark Lord's touch upon Draco's face, just moments ago. He had traveled back to the dungeons and crept into his dormitory unnoticed. Draco had fallen into bed, drawing the curtains around him. With the sun still shining horribly, he fell into a troubled sleep, filled with horrible nightmares and memories.   
  
Now, Draco opened the curtains about an inch or so, just enough for the moonlight to spill across his silk sheets. He drew the sheets closer around his body, now shaking uncontrollably. He felt as though he might vomit. He sat up and leaned against the headboard, his knees under his chin. Draco could see the whole Death Eater meeting playing in his head. No! He thought. I don't ever want to see it again. He started to rock his body back and forth, but every time he moved, his body hit the headboard, making a loud noise. Draco laid down in the fetal position, drawing the covers up to his chin. His mouth felt unnaturally dry, so he reached out to his bedside table to get a glass of water. As he did, the moonlight fell on his forearm, the Dark Mark glowing ominously. For the first time in his life, Draco truly knew what horrors it could bring.  
  
Images of a 5-year old girl being tortured flashed before his eyes.  
  
"No," he moaned, "stop!"  
  
The little girl was crying, and the sound of her cries filled Draco's ears. He covered them with his clammy hands, as though he truly believed that would help. He could feel the girl's small hands clamped on his wrist for a second. He wrenched his hand away, as though she was there in his bed. He saw her grey eyes looking up at him, eyes so much like his won. He saw her being tortured, until she fell on the ground for exhaustion. Only then did the spells pause. Draco felt tears sliding down his face, something he hadn't felt for years.  
  
"No," he whispered, "She was only 5."  
  
The Grangers had left the world without pain. But this small girl, this daughter of a wizard who had defied the Dark Lord, she was a mere child. Draco looked to his right and in his mind saw this wizard, reaching out and yelling. The Dark Lord turned towards him and green light filled the room. The wife ran to her husband but before she reached him, green light filled the room again, and she fell on top of her husband, a pile of human carcass.  
  
The little girl ran to her parents and hugged them, crying and crying. Please, Draco thought, let her go! But the Dark Lord simply put a Full-Body Bind on her. Draco prayed that this time, the Dark Lord wouldn't say the words Draco knew he was going to say. But memories can't change. "Burn the parents," the cold voice said, "and disembowel the girl. Make an example of those who defy me." Draco saw himself lift the man mechanically and throw him into the bonfire. The scent of burnt flesh filled his nose. Draco looked to see what was making the smell. Then he looked down at his robe, which he had been burying his face in and realized it still smelt from the meeting. He tore the robe off and ran out of the dormitory to the bathroom. He knelt in front of the toilet and threw up. He walked over to the sink when he finished and splashed his face with cold water. He stared into the mirror, then at the Dark Mark on his forearm. Anger welled within him. He tore at the Mark with his nails, desperately trying to get it off. "GET-OFF! I-WONT-HAVE-ANY-PART-IN-THIS! GOD DAMMIT! WHY ME?!" Realizing his efforts were futile, he collapse on the floor, his arm now bleeding, but the Dark Mark still staring up at him.  
  
"No." he whispered. "No more."  
  
Draco had always craved power. Or so he thought. But he hated the killings of innocent people. Ha, he thought. Yea that sounds just like me. But it was the truth. The Grangers had deserved what they got. The father always got pissed face, and then beat the mother. Then the mother would beat the boy. Indeed, she had been hitting them when the Death Eaters had arrived. Then the father, worthless drunk that he was, walked in, punched the mother, then turned to walk out. He had opened the door before he had realized their presence. The whole ordeal made him sick. He had observed the bruises on Hermione before she was knocked unconscious. Parents beat her something wicked. Then again, Draco was the one who had put her into a coma. Or so he had heard from Snape. He had had a lot to drink. If he had been sober, he wouldn't have beat her up so badly. But he still would've beat her. Stupid Mudblood whore.   
  
Draco hated her so much. Hated the way she answered questions as if she had swallowed a textbook. Hated the way she got a glint in her eye when she was being bloody brilliant. Yep, Draco Malfoy hated that filthy, slutty, brilliant, geeky, amazing, beautiful Mudblood.  
  
Draco sighed and put his hands in his face. "Why me?" He felt sharp pains on his forearm. He looked down and saw the Dark Mark still intact upon his skin. As he gazed upon his arm, he felt disgust well up in his throat. He couldn't take it anymore. Draco was bad, evil to the point where he'd beat a kid up for looking at him wrong. But he drew the line at torturing an innocent girl. A tear slid down his face. As he wiped it away he reflected on all the tears he'd shed over this incident. But Malfoys never cried.  
  
Maybe I'm not a Malfoy, he thought. He shoved that thought aside as he had run through the possibilities of that since he was a child. He was, indeed, his father's child. So sad for him. Many nights Draco dreamed of life as someone else's child, raised by someone other than his parents. Maybe he wouldn't have grown to be such a selfish brat. If someone else had raised him, maybe he wouldn't hate the world for being there. Maybe he would've been in Gryffindor. He might've been friends with Potter, Weasel, and the Mudblood.  
  
He remembered the day Potter rejected him as if it were yesterday. Potter didn't know it, and would never know, but it had affected Draco deeply. Why were the only people who wanted to be his friends the children of his father's friends? Why were people so afraid of him? All he had wanted as a child was some real friends. A dream that was quickly stomped on by reality. He went over his approach that day and realized his problem: He was a Malfoy. Of course he had to bring in all that pureblood bullshit. Of course he had to insult Weasley, who was already Harry's friend. And he most certainly had to act like an arrogant wanker the whole bloody time. But what if someone else had raised him?   
  
Draco started to dream about a different life...  
  
*DRACO'S DREAM ABOUT A DIFFERENT LIFE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!*  
  
Draco knocked on a compartment door. As it opened, he saw a very tall gangly boy with red hair and a smudge on his long nose.  
  
"Um, hi. Can I stay with you in your compartment? Only everywhere else is full."  
  
"O' course," the boy replied. Draco walked in and saw another boy, with unruly black hair that seemed to have a life of his own. He subconsciously ran a hand over his neat slicked back hair. Draco sat about a foot away from the red headed boy, opposite the raven haired one.  
  
The boy said, "We were just talking about Houses. I hope I get sorted into Gryffindor. My whole family was in there, the lot of them. And you best believe me when I say there is a lot of 'em!"  
  
The other two laughed at that. The red head asked Draco what House he thought he'd be Sorted into.  
  
"Well," Draco began, "I'm really not that sure. See, my father landed himself in Azkaban a year or so after I was born. He was, well, a follower of the Dark Lord."  
  
For some reason the red headed boy glanced at the dark haired boy, who said, "Go on," looking intently at Draco.  
  
"Ever since then I've lived with my mother's friends. They were in Gryffindor. My mother just couldn't handle seeing me. Said I looked so much like my father." Draco made a face at that. "I didn't like people comparing me to my father. He wasn't very good to me or me mum. The memories of what he would do to her drove her insane. She committed suicide when I was about 6."  
  
The raven-haired boy was looking at Draco now as if he knew exactly what Draco was going through.  
  
"So, my parents were both in Slytherin, and my ancestors were all in Slytherin, but the people who raised me were in Gryffindor. So who knows? I could end up in Hufflepuff!"  
  
They all chuckled a bit. Then the boy with a smudge on his nose said, "By the way, the name's Ron. Ron Weasley. And this here is my buddy Harry Potter."  
  
Draco looked at Harry but did not ask to see his scar. If they became friends he was sure he would see it soon enough.  
  
Harry looked very glum. "I suppose it's my fault your dad is in Azkaban and that your mum is dead." He said this looking at his feet.  
  
"Of course it isn't. My father was a lousy git. He made horrible causes towards others, and now karma's come back to bite him in the arse. As for my mother, that was my father's fault as well. I don't blame you at all. What's important is that You-Know-Who is gone." Draco said. Harry grinned at him.  
  
"Oh, yea, the name's Draco Malfoy." Harry and Ron looked at each other. Draco rolled his eyes and sighed. "Alright fine, have a laugh at my name. I know I did when i first heard it."  
  
Harry and Ron started to giggle. Then Ron said, "I think my dad knew your dad. Was your father Lucius Malfoy?"  
  
"Yeah. And judging from the look at your face I can tell my father wasn't exactly friends with yours."  
  
Everyone started to laugh at Ron's bemused face. Even Ron started laugh, just because it felt good to laugh. When everyone quieted down, Harry said, "This is the best. When I was living with Muggles, I didn't have any friends. I'm not even at Hogwarts yet and now I have two!"  
  
Ron nodded in agreement. "We should make a pact, that no matter what House we are sorted into, we all stay friends."  
  
Draco looked sad. "Even if I'm in Slytherin while you too are in Gryffindor?"  
  
Harry nodded fervently. "Of course we'll stay friends! No matter what!"  
  
Draco smiled and watched the landscape go by. It felt good to be sitting in a train with his two best friends, laughing at each others jokes and whatnot. Draco felt more involved than he ever had in his life. This was the best day ever.  
  
*END DRACO'S DREAM OF A DIFFERENT LIFE*  
  
If only that's the way his life had been. Draco had been thinking a lot as he was sprawled out on the bathroom floor. In his mind, a battle of the wills was going on. He was asking himself questions, and then...he would, well, answer them. Himself. Shit, he's going nuts!  
  
*Why Draco, why do you want power so much?*  
  
Well, if I had power, it would mean that Lucius could never touch me or my mother again.  
  
*So because your father was a complete arse, you want to take over the wizarding world?*  
  
Silence.  
  
*Well?*  
  
No. It's kinda hard not to think like the Dark Lord when your constantly surronded by selfish Slytherins and Death Eaters.  
  
*So you don't really crave power?*  
  
No.  
  
*So what do you crave?*  
  
.....Respect. Acceptance. I don't want people to fear me. I want them to respect me for who I am and accept me as a person.  
  
*And Potter?*  
  
What about him?  
  
*What else, dumbass? Why do you hate him?*  
  
Well, you'd be that way too, if you asked someone to be your friend and they turned you down. Plus, I was raised to despise him.  
  
*If you despised him, why did you want him to be your friend?*  
  
I didn't want to follow in my father's footsteps. Being friends with Potter would ensure that I never traveled down that road. But his refusal pushed me further into the Dark Arts.  
  
*And Weasely?*  
  
Pure blooded trash. They are a disgrace to the wizarding world. Or so father said. Other than that, he was an arse to me, even when I was just trying to concentrate in Potions.  
  
*And what about the Mudblood?*  
  
Silence again.  
  
*Why do you hate her?*  
  
Muggle born. I was raised to hate her kind. Besides, I hate the way she's so bloody brilliant all the time.  
  
*But surely that is a quality to admire. What's the real reason for your hate?*  
  
Draco stood up abrubtly and walked around the bathroom. He felt light headed from laying on the cold floor for so long and getting up so quickly. He had learned so much just laying there, going through the deep fabrics of his mind to find out what it was that made him him.   
  
He had made a decision. Draco walked back to his bed and climbed in. Tomorrow, he would go to see Professor Dumbledore. He would no longer be a true Death Eater. He would volunteer to become a spy.  
  
Tomorrow, he would stop the hostility between himself and the Trio. He would act as though they simply were not worthy of his time and that he needn't waste energy on them.  
  
Draco Malfoy was a lot of things.  
  
He was:  
  
Arrogant, self-conscious, prejudiced, mean, despicable, untrustworthy [to a certain degree], vile, and conceited.   
  
Draco Malfoy was also:  
  
Insecure, apprehnsive, a man that no one really knew, lonely, and human.  
  
He was NOT his father. And he would NOT make any effort to be anything remotely like his father.  
  
Even though Draco was ready to accept many of the things he had found out about himself, there were still somethings he was NOT ready to accept.  
  
Draco Malfoy, he told himself, did NOT want to be friends with Harry Potter.  
  
Draco Malfoy did NOT want to be friends with Ron Weasley either.  
  
Draco Malfoy could stand being alone for the rest of his life.  
  
But most importantly, Draco Malfoy did NOT hate Hermione Granger because he loved her, and knew in his heart that she could never love him.   
  
After all...who could love a Malfoy?  
  
****************************************************  
  
Hermione was eating breakfast when Draco entered the Great Hall the next morning. A hush fell over the the whole Hall as the school watched the Slytherin enter.  
  
Draco Malfoy was looking down at his feet, not face up like usual. He dragged his feet and walked slowly. The normally slicked back hair now hung around his face, wild, as if he had just woken up. There were dark circles under his eyes, and he was alone, neither side flanked by his "bodygaurds". The school held their breath as Draco proceeded, not towards Slytherin's table, but straight down the middle towards Gryffindor's.  
  
As he neared, he looked up to see why it was so silent. He saw that everyone was staring at him and he frowned.  
  
Hermione looked up to see him walking closer to her side of the table, and on the other side, Ron and Harry were glaring at him. She glanced at his hands hanging loosely from his sides and saw that he was barely grasping a textbook.   
  
Draco stopped just in front of Hermione. Hermione, remembering her dream the night before, blushed faintly, and looked up at him.  
  
"What do you want, ferret face?" Ron said violently.  
  
Draco didn't reply, nor acknowledge Harry or Ron's presence. He stared at Hermione, and handed her the book.  
  
"Here," he said, his voice echoing throughout the Great Hall. "I found it in the hallway."  
  
It was Hermione's Arithmancy book, and she knew her name was inside the cover. Hermione was surprised that he hadn't burned it to a crisp or thrown it in the lake. Hermione looked at him and was startled by the nature of his eyes. The grey eyes with the slightest tint of blue were so...so...empty. Where there was once hatred and coldness at least, there was now nothing. Hermione felt herself wondering just what had happened, and, for a second, was tempted to ask what was wrong.  
  
But suddenly Draco started to walk again, breaking their eye contact. Hermione whirled around in her seat and watched his retreating back. Then she called out,  
  
"Draco!"  
  
Now all eyes were upon her. No one could remember the last time she had called him by his first name. Draco paused then turned around. Hermione found herself looking into his eyes again, drowning in them, but this time she thought there was something there, something like hope.  
  
Or maybe she was just imagining it.  
  
"Thank you," she said softly. She was aware that, on the other side of the table, Harry and Ron were looking at her with confused and bewildered faces.  
  
Draco kept looking at her for a second, and then said, "You're welcome...Hermione." And he smiled a smile that made the stomachs of all the girls flutter. It wasn't that self-satisfied smirk, but a genuine smile. Hermione liked the way it leaned a bit on one side, and still managed to look perfect. Draco turned and walked up to the Staff Table. The Great Hall immediately started to talk about just what it was that had happened. He could hear Ron and Harry questioning Hermione, but did not hear her response.  
  
He said good morning to all of the staff, and paused a bit when he glanced at Snape. Oh, God, he thought. What if he tells my father? Will he get suspicious of my meeting with Dumbledore. I can always say I wished to learn my chances of making Head Boy, but how can I explain being civil to a mudblood? Does Dumbledore know that Snape is a Death Eater? Draco shook this thoughts out of his head and adressed Dumbledore.  
  
"Sir, I wish to speak to you in your office after breakfast." he said.  
  
Dumbledore nodded and said, "Of course. You can meet me there."  
  
Draco wished them all a good day and thanked Dumbledore before walking to his own table. He sat down in the only available seat, which was next to Pansy Parkinson, unfortunately. Then he took out a book and tried to read. Draco found it hard to concentrate as everyone around him was talking about him, including Pansy. Draco found it incredibly annoying that Pansy even thought that he fancied her, and didn't appreciate the way she was insulting Hermione right next to him. He sighed and stood up, ready to go to the library, so that he could have some real peace. But he suddenly felt Pansy's hand on his arm, trying to pull him back down.   
  
"Draco, where are you going? I demand you tell me what you were doing talking to that-that-that peice of filth!"  
  
He leaned in close to her face and said, "Pansy, I have never liked you, and never will. The only reason you are invited to my house is because my father wanted us to wed. But as he is in Azkaban, I don't need to listen to him anymore. So stay the hell out of my business."  
  
She looked incredibly abashed and offended.  
  
"Let. Me. Go." he said in a deadly whisper.  
  
When she failed to do so, he wrenched himself out of her grasp, and to his horror the sleeve of his left forearm had torn, and the Dark Mark was grinning up at him. He quickly repaired it and looked around to see who had seen. The Slytherins were not surprised at all. But he didn't care about them. It wasn't their happy smiles that made his stomach sick. No, it was the way Hermione was staring at him in horror. Draco also saw, to his own horror, that her eyes were swimming with tears, although he had no clue as to why. They may have been civil to each other but there was no way she actually cared for him. Right?  
  
Hermione stood up and ran out of the hall, Ron and Harry close behind. The latter pair glared at Draco before getting up. Draco frantically got his stuff together, determined to catch up, but he knew he was too late. They could have gone to anywhere by now, he thought, his heart sinking to his shoes. So Draco just stood there, looking crestfallen, until he realized that Pansy was giggling. He looked at her and felt hate well up inside as he looked at all the Slytherins, all the people who pressured him into doing things, who were only his friends because his family was rich.  
  
Draco grabbed Pansy's wrist and stood her up. She gave a gasp of pain, which he ignored. Instead, he tightened his grip on her, aware that the teachers would be coming over any second. He said, "What the hell is your problem? Can't you take a bloody hint? Do I have to spell every damn thing out for you? You are pathetic, you worse than a mudblood, and you have forgotten your place. I've got half the mind to knock some sense into you right now." Draco, his mind half crazed with anger, and lost hope, started to raise his right hand to be brought down on her when someone grabbed his arm. He turned to see the person he least expected to be there.  
  
"Come on Draco," David Granger said. "Don't want to get in any trouble only a month into term."  
  
Draco was about to tell him to fuck off when he saw that David's eyes were exactly like Hermione's. Just the thought of Hermione calmed him down. Besides, there was something about David. He actually kind of liked David. Out of all the things he could've done, he stopped Draco Malfoy from doing something incredibly stupid. Draco nodded, and released Pansy. David helped him gather his things and they started to walk out of the Great Hall.  
  
Draco felt horrible. The day could not get any worse. He had felt for a few brief moments that maybe Hermione could actually care about him. But there was no way she could now. He was a Death Eater on top of a Malfoy. The most horrible combination in a boyfriend there is.   
  
David surveyed Draco out of the corner of his eye. He could tell that Draco cared for Hermione. After all, when Draco's sleeve had ripped, he looked right at Hermione for her reaction, instead of Snape, whom he knew was a Death Eater as well.   
  
The two walked on completely quiet, until David broke the silence.  
  
"Let's wait in the library before going to Dumbledore's office."  
  
Draco looked at him puzzled. David looked over at him and smiled.  
  
"I've got a meeting with him too."  
  
And the most unlikely duo there could possibly be walked to the library, talking about history, a subject that both loved.  
  
A mudblood and a pureblood.  
  
A Granger and a Malfoy.  
  
A friend of Dumbledore's and a servant of the Dark Lord.  
  
A true Slytherin and a true Gryffindor.  
  
A pair of inseperable friends.  
  
A/N: sorry if it's all disorderly. i wrote fragments of it at different times. so yea. Draco gets all angsty and has a change of heart. Hermione realizes something as well. then the whole death eater crap comes out. then david becomed friends with draco. and tahts it basically for the summary.  
  
Next Chapter: The Meeting in Dumbledore's office! A friendship blooms and stays strong [bet you cant guess who!] Harry talks to Hermione in the common room...and gets a little rough! hmm.... oh and snape still acts like a slimy git! 


End file.
